Let Me Save You
by LittleDarkNerd
Summary: Sherlock's gone, John can't be without him, a bottle of sleeping pills will bring them back together but it's going to be no pleasure cruise. May it be that, while they try to go through their troubles, they might find their feelings? Johnlock! First fic, please be gentle. R/R?
1. Save me

It started off so well

They said we made a perfect pair

I clothed myself in your glory and your love

How I loved you,

How I cried...

The years of care and loyalty

Were nothing but a sham it seems

The years belie we lived a lie

"I'll love you 'til I die"

Save me Save me Save me

I can't face this life alone

Save me Save me Oh...

I'm naked and I'm far from home

John collapsed onto the couch numbly, senselessly, lifeless... It had been three years already but they seemed a lot longer, decades, centuries... Each minute dragged itself along, slowly. And still, even though three years had gone past, even though it felt like an eternity since John last saw those cyan blue eyes, the pain was as strong as it had been that day, that last day... No. John didn't want to think about it. Not again. The pain, sadness and anger were always there, present, making him remember why he was heartbroken and lifeless, why he was drunk most of the time, why he had to live of Mycroft's generous donations, why the tears constantly streamed down his face, why he was alone... Sherlock was long gone, long dead, but still, never forgotten.

John's only hope never dissapeared, he secretly wished that sherlock would come back, come back to him. The only relief that filled his body was when he texted Sherlock. His messages were probably forgotten in the waves in between the devices, unread, never reaching their destiny: the long dead man's phone. John never got answers to his messages. He told Sherlock everything, everything. Well, maybe not everything. There were still some things that he had admitted to himself but didn't send to Sherlock's phone. He had thought about it some time ago, in the silence and darkness of the sitting room, spread on the couch as his flatmate used to.

/Thoughts fluttered, his mind racing. John stared into the distance, thinking... Thinking about the only person that mattered, the only person that truly broke him to pieces. John had seen thousands of deaths in afganistan, friends, comrades, people he knew... And still, none of their deaths (violent, violent deaths) affected him as the sociopatic consulting detective's. They hadn't been together for more than a year, but john had spent more time with him than he had spent with anyone. All the dates he had had while being with Sherlock had all gone wrong, but really, that was also Sherlock's fault. He always claimed john for stupidities on the worst moments, he texted incessantly when he was bored, he called john for cases as soon as he found one and the problem was that john always, always went to Sherlock when he called. God, he missed Sherlock so much. He missed his peculiar, unused smile, his eyes, his cheekbones, his lips, oh his lips... So angular, so perfect... John surprised himself with these thoughts, he shouldn't have these thoughts, it was so wrong to have these thoughts... But still, he had them, he had always felt those feelings pounding the back of his brain. He realised that the pain he was feeling wasn't the pain of someone who lost just their best friend, that thought sent tears down his already red cheeks. Oh god, he did, John Watson had unavoidedly fallen in love with his best friend and flatmate Sherlock Holmes. But now it was to late to admit it, Sherlock was gone, and with him all of the chances that John had of ever being happy again./

John barely noticed (as drunk as he was) the tears fall his face as he remembered how realisation had hit him that rainy afternoon two years ago. It had taken him so much to admit it, to recognise it. That he had been in love with Sherlock. That he still was. John took another sip of the beer he was holding, hoping that it would drown his thoughts... But it didn't, so he fetched his phone, searching for the relief that always filled him when he texted Sherlock. Well, Sherlock's phone.

Sherlock, i miss you. Please, let me come with you. -John W.

John dissolved into silent tears once more, and as his strength left him through the salty liquid, John traveled to his dream world; Where Sherlock was there, they solved cases, and Sherlock Felt the same way for John as John felt for him.

Sherlock woke up with a jump when he noticed his phone buzz, indicating a recieved message.


	2. Who wants to live forever

There's no time for us

There's no place for us

What is this thing that builds our dreams yet slips away from us

Who wants to live forever

Who wants to live forever...?

There's no chance for us

It's all decided for us

This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Who wants to live forever

Who wants to live forever?

Who dares to love forever?

When love must die

Sherlock hadn't stopped recieving John's messages since he died. At least once or twice a day. John was always telling him about how his day was, how miserably he felt, all his thoughts, the way he missed Sherlock... More than once he was surprised by the dampness of his face. He never answered to John's messages,( it wasn't safe) but he wrote down all the things he would have said on a small notebook, ready for John to read it when he came back.

Of course he would come back, as soon as he finished with all of them, all of the people that still looked over his friends. It was just Moran left now, he was the last one, but also the most dangerous. Ex-militar, thrown out for killing his comrades and superiors, and worst of all, he had been Moriarty's lover. This was terribly dangerous, he would want revenge for his death. The only thing that stopped him from killing John instantly was the fact that he was under Moriaty's orders, his lover's orders, and he would follow them until he died. Actually, Sherlock couldn't really blame Moran, he would want to do the same with Moriarty if John was killed... But he shouldnt think about that. John was his friend not his lover. But still, Sherlock's feelings towards the soldier were surprisingly strong, they had got to the point of Sherlock 'killing' himself to save him.

Talking about John. His phone buzzed again, bringing him back to reality.

Sherlock, since you are not coming with me, i'll go with you. This is my note. -John W.

No no no no no! This was not going to happen! Sherlock was not going to let that happen! He had been looking over John to make sure he was safe from others. He had cameras in all the rooms, he had Molly and Mycroft visiting him regularly, he had Mycroft proportioning protection, he had everything... Or at least he thought so. The thought of John ending his own life had once entered the detective's brain but he deleted it as soon as it came.

Now that thought was back, strong as never before, and it caused terror to flood Sherlock's veins. He grabbed his jacket and a box and ran towards 221B, which was just a street away.

During the run he started wondering if John would recognise him after all his physical changes. His curls were now blond, slightly ginger and quite shorter; his black coat had been replaced with a brown leather jacket and his suit was changed for blue jeans and a black t-shirt; the only thing that remained the same were his cyan blue eyes... Of course John would recognise him! It wasn't much of a disguise anyways, his face was still the same, and John would recognise him. He had to.

Sherlock reached the door and banged on it "Packet for John Watson!" he shouted as he kept on banging. In less than 20 seconds, the door opened and an angry Mrs Hudson appeared, her expression was quickly replaced with shock as she looked at Sherlock's face. "Packet for John Watson" he repeated, showing the box "Mrs Hudson, no time to explain. Let me come in. Act natural." he whispered leaning closer. As soon as the landlady closed the door he rushed up the stairs, jumping over 4 at a time. He slammed the door of the flat open. "John! Don't!" he shouted, hoping it wasn't too late. He ran to his room first, it was the most likable option. Yes, John was there. The door was locked and he could hear John whispering to himself "great, now i hear his voice. I can't stand it anymore, this has to end..." Sherlock ran towards the door and threw himself against it. Once was enough; Sherlock and the door landed on the floor with a thud.


	3. It's a hard life

I don't want my freedom

There's no reason for living with a broken heart

This is a tricky situation

I've only got myself to blame

It's just a simple fact of life

It can happen to anyone

You win - you lose

It's a chance you have to take with love

Oh yeah - I fell in love

And now you say it's over and I'm falling apart

John was spread on the floor, his gaze turned lazily to the man next to him. Suddenly, that man moved towards him, on top of him, his knees were now next to each of John's sides. John's eyes fought to keep open, trying to distinguish the man's stangely familiar face, but he could just see a blur, a sea of mixed colours dancing over and around him, and each second that passed everything got more difficult to see or recognise. He suddenly spotted two, zaphire blue eyes on the stranger's face. He recognised them... But no, that couldn't be real, it was just the effect of the drugs... He raised a hand tentatively to touch the man's face. "Sherlock...?" he mumbled. His hand dropped harshly on the floor as the world around him turned black. Finally, the drugs had made the effect desired.

Sherlock placed a hand on John's face and one on his neck. His pulse rate was reducing its speed to worrying levels. Sherlock kept his position, not wanting to believe what was happening. He took John's pulse once more, trying to prove himself wrong; Trying to prove John was ok... But he wasn't. John's pulse was even slower now. Sherlock shook the other man desperately, calling him, shouting wake ups. Then he spotted it. A tube of somnifers dropped on the floor, empty. His rational mind started working again. *Mycroft* he thought. It was the only way to save John. He couldn't do it himself and it would take too much time to take him to the hospital. As soon as he thought that he leaped off John and called Mycroft.

Mycroft was close to sleep, sat in his brown armchair at buckingham palace. His phone rang. He checked who it was. Sherlock. Weird . Sherlock never called. He didn't even call to tell him he was alive. He just texted telling him that they should meet at the abandoned building they used to meet... After that, Mycroft had helped his brother with everything he needed to destroy Moriarty's web. But Sherlock had called today. It must have been important.

He raised the phone to his ear and tried to speak calmly. "Sherlock..." he heard quiet sobs at the other side of the line "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"John. Dying. Somnifers. Help. Now." Sherlock's words were direct and short and strong and desperate. He couldn't form proper phrases. His voice quivered, trying to hide his sobs from his brother.

Mycroft had already sended a private specialised ambulance to 221b after hearing Sherlock's first 3 words. "It's on its way. Be there in no time. I'll see you at the hospital. It's private, don't worry. And the best one i know." he hung up, hoping that when the ambulance came it wouldn't be too late.

Sherlock panicked. He paced around the room, trying to find a way to make the somnifers have less effect on John. Then it hit him. Cocaine. He had some. He had been using it to try and forget about John when the memories were destroying him. He reached to his pocket and pulled out a small bag with white powder. He kneeled down next to John and pressed his fingers in the bag, getting his fingers whitened with cocaine. He put them in front of John's nostrils and whispered in the unconcious man's ear. "John, sniff it. Please. For me." John sniffed it. His pulse got faster almost instantly. Tears rolled once more over Sherlock's cheeks but this time they were tears of relief. John hadn't opened his eyes but he was breathing, and his pulse was fast. Yay for cocaine.

Sherlock heard the ambulance approaching. He suddenly remembered Mrs Hudson. "Mrs Hudson! Let them in! They are coming to help John!"

Barely a second later, knocks were heard. A door was slammed open. They came upstairs. Sherlock was pulled away from John as two men carried him downstairs towards the ambulance. Sherlock freed himself from the nurse that held him and ran after John. He got in the ambulance and sat next to him, caressing his hand.

The ambulance came to a stop. John's _ was rolled out by the nurses and doctor. Sherlock followed, not aware of his surroundings, just focused on John.

John, who breathed.

John, who's heart beated.

John, who was alive.


	4. I'm going slightly mad

When the outside temperature rises

And the meaning is oh so clear

One thousand and one yellow daffodils

Begin to dance in front of you - oh dear

Are they trying to tell you something ?

You're missing that one final screw

You're simply not in the pink my dear

To be honest you haven't got a clue

I'm going slightly mad

He had seen Sherlock. He had seen him. It had been just a couple seconds before his brain had decided to shut down at the mercy of the somnifers. But he had been there. A long, thin figure standing next to him, then over him. He couldn't verify if it had been a dream, though. Maybe it just had been an alucination caused by the medicines so that he could die happy. But John had seen those eyes, those cyan blue eyes, deep as the ocean but changing as the sky, and they had been full with something that John had never seen in them. Guilt? Remorse? Sorrow?

He would never know.

Actually, he should be dead right now. Why was he able to think? Why? There was no light at the end of the tunnel. No heaven nor hell waiting for him. He felt nothing, just a kind of floating sensation and numbness. He was dead, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be able to forget it all and feel peace inside him? Why was he still full of grief? Why could he still feel the empty space in his heart? Why were the memories still hunting him?

He drowned in the memories, living them over and over as if they were real, being with Sherlock. He wondered if this was his heaven, being with Sherlock forever, even if it was just in thought. He continued remembering...

/They were running through the London back alleys. He followed Sherlock without questioning. They had been in Angelo's just a minute ago, and now they were running after a taxi. John could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins. They were reaching it, almost there... The scene stopped. Sherlock looked at him and placed a hand on his shoulder "Please wake up." he said repeatedly "wake up." His voice was broken. /

John suddenly felt pressure on his chest and a desperate need to breathe.

Sherlock had been two days there. Sat next to John. He didn't sleep. He didn't eat. He looked awful but it didn't matter, just John mattered. He had his hand placed always over John's shoulder, so that he could feel every movement he made. The problem was that he made none. John had been comatose for two days.

He read somewhere that talking to comatose people helped them wake up. He normally rests his head on the pillow, placing his lips next to John's ear and begs him to wake up. To come back to him.

Today, Sherlock longed John's scent, badly. He placed his head on John's chest. He didn't smell like John anymore, he smelled like hospital. 'Please, John, wake up' he begged, sobbing on John's chest 'Please wake up. Wake up'

Something moved, actually, John moved. He sat up, gasping for air. This caused Sherlock's head to roll off and Sherlock to stumble to the floor due to the lost of balance.

John sat up, desperate for air. He breathed in, breathed out; breathed in... He thought he had had something on his chest, but he must have imagined it, there was nothing there. He was in a hospital bed, in the middle of a hospital room. He blinked a few times to get used to the great amount of white that damaged his eyes. He then recalled on the chair thrown on the floor. He wondered why it was there. He heard something near to the legs of his bed mumble 'fuck'. ...he breathed out.

John tried to turn towards the sound, to confirm it was who he thought, who he wanted it to be. But the cabled attached to him refused. John fell, defeated and tired, onto the bed.

Sherlock stood up forcefully, his smile unbelivaby wide and his eyes gleaming. He bent down to carefully hug his friend, who was staring at him with wide eyes. John whispered "so I'm not dead, huh?"

"I thought you could have worked that out by now, but your deductive skills were always rather slow."

"good, good..." A wave of realisation washed over John. If he wasn't dead, that meant that Sherlock was alive too! He pushed Sherlock away from him and used all the strength he had on punching him hard, his aim not clear for even himself. Sherlock ended up recieving John's fist with his lip. John fell back on the bed, panting to get his breath back. "Bloody git" he whispered "Do you have the slightest idea of what I went through? I... I..." he shook his head "No... I can't hate you... Idiot." Meanwhile, Sherlock brushed off the blood from his lip with his fingertips. He had deserved it. "I'm sorry John, i really am. I had no option..." he trailed off. John looked at him tentatively and for the look he gave, he expected a better explanation than that, so Sherlock sat down and started to explain. "Look, I really had to. Moriarty had snipers on Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and you. I couldn't let you die..."

"You could have told me. I could have helped."

"They'd know..."

"Why did you take so long to come back?"

"I was destroying it..."

"What?"

"Moriarty's web. Can you please let me explain?"

"Sorry..."

"I shouldn't even be here. I just came to stop you from doing anything stupid... Your sniper... I couldn't get rid of him yet... Sebastian Moran, he's really dangerous, and he wants revenge-"

"Why?"

"John!"

"Sorry, no interruptions"

"He wants to destroy you, i mean, us, i mean, you, i mean... You know what i mean!" sherlock shook his head "He wants revenge because it was my fault that his..." he looked for the appropiate word " ...partner died. He didn't kill you just yet because he is still under Moriarty's orders."

"Just a sec" John raised a hand to gesture it "Are you saying that Moriarty and Moran were..."

"Yes, they were together" *Lucky ones* he thought.

John giggled "MorMor! It's fantastic" he laughed. "Sorry, sorry" he said while trying to supress his laughs "I just would have never imagined... I mean... I'll just shut up."

Sherlock smiled at John's reaction."The thing is, he is still very dangerous. Hopefully he won't have noticed it was me but probably he did... He is aiming for you, John, and you need recovery, ok? I'll fix it. I will get rid of him so that all goes back to normal, ok?" Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder.

John shook his head "No. You're not doing this on your own."


	5. Author's note: I'm so sorry

A/N: Hello my beauties. I know it's been a very long time since I actually posted something... Sorry. I'm really sorry that I practically ignored all of you but, well, things happened. I had two chapters written, I promise, but they were in my i-pod and my mother took it because she said I was too much time with it etc, etc. the thing is, she decided it was a good idea to try and put my password so she got the phone blocked and all the information went dooooowwwwn the sewer. Anyway, I entered this major writer's block and I couldn't get out, there's also the factor that I was oh so scared of confronting you guys... But finally, a few weeks ago I found a fanfic that brought me back my inspiration and, here I am!

Well, I'm sorry for boring you with my life and keeping you waiting and all that. I promise more chapters will be up soon. I've already got it sort out. More or less.

Lots of love.

PD: Special thanks and home-made cookies to RubyisSherlocked, bbybyrd, meganini0610, IamSHERlocked4ever and Sandy who were beautiful people who took their time to review and SUPERMEGADOOPER SPECIAL thanks and so much love and kittens to TheAlexaCon that, without knowing brought me back my inspiration with 'an unusual case'.


	6. Show must go on

**A/N: This isn't a chapter I particulary like. Nothing much happens and it's REALLY short. I do enjoy writing conversations between the boys but this chapter is quite a fill in. I just thought it was needed and it's a good ocassion to start introducing Johnlock. I promise there will be action, but later. Now, relax and enjoy.**

**Oooooops! I forgot to do this in the chapters before soooo here it goes! Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, I'm not good enough to handle so much greatness and if I did there'd be oh so much skin showing. I don't own queen either because, even though I have a minimal musical talent I wouldn't be able to create such amazing songs.**

**PD: Most of you will have noticed but if you didn't I'm telling you. I changed both the summary and the song for the first chapter. I thought the new one I put was sooo much more adequate.**

Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance

Another heartache, another failed romance

On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?

I guess I'm learning, I must be warmer now

I'll soon be turning, round the corner now

Outside the dawn is breaking

But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free

The show must go on

The show must go on

Inside my heart is breaking

My make-up may be flaking

But my smile still stays on

_"You're not doing this on your own." _

And of course, Sherlock didn't think the same way.

"In your dreams, John" Sherlock didn't like the idea of putting John in danger. It wasn't just because he worked to hard to keep him safe but there was also this strange feeling of preocupation and maybe something more... Sherlock Holmes wasn't supposed to care, of course John was an exception but why were the feelings so strong?

"...Sherlock are you listening?!"

"Excuse me, you were saying?"

"Ugh, you're impossible!"

"Why? What did you want?"

"I was saying that you're not going to do this on your own and that you're not going to get your way anymore!"

"And why is that?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO LOSE YOU AGAIN!"

"..."

*Oh shit.* thought John. He couldn't believe he had actually said that. What would Sherlock think of it? Would his deduction skills discover John't true feelings towards him? What would he do about it? Why wasnt all so complicated?

"Look who's zoning out now." Sherlock's baritone ripped John away from his thoughts.

"It's just... Sherlock, I've been so much time thinking you were dead... I don't want you to really be dead just because I wasn't there to save your arse like I've done many times before... I'm just your sidekick, nothing special, but still a pretty good sidekick for such an amazing hero..." John was spilling his thoughts with no control. He thought he couldn't have a chance to speak to Sherlock ever again. He asked for a miracle, now he had it. So why not use it?

"John, you'll never be just a sidekick..." Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He wanted to tell John. Tell him that he had a feeling he couldn't understand. A feeling that made him want John close and safe. A feeling that made him jealous of all the other women John dated, wanting to be hugged and even kissed like them...

"Look, I..." They both said in unison before bursting out in nervous chuckles.

Slowly, Sherlock raised his head and his eyes met John's in a longing stare. Their hands slowly crept towards each other and nervous smiles crept on their mouths. Their hands were almost touching and they were leaning slightly forward.

"Oh great, John you're awake. Now that you know my brother's alive please, please take him back." Mycroft's voice came from the door making the two men jump back and stiffle akward coughs while they hid their flushed faces. Sherlock shot his brother a death glare and, quite strangely, so did John. Mycroft ignored them and just left some papers on the side-table.

"The doctors took your brain scans. They said that you'd be fit to leave in two days. Have a nice day"

And with that, he swiftly exited the room leaving a very flustered John and a very confused Sherlock on their own.


	7. The invisible man

_I'm the invisible man_

_I'm the invisible man_

_Incredible how you can _

_see right through me!_

Sherlock paced rapidly to and fro the hospital room while John packed his things up. He was completely ok by now, he'd rested enough time and the doctors had checked everything they needed. Damn those doctors. Couldn't they have told John that he wasn't ok? Kept him safe in his hospital bed while he cleared the last obstacle that stopped them from being safe? No. Of course not. John would have gone anyways. Escaped if it was necessary. Because that was John, his John. Brave and loyal and understanding and wonderful and handsome and… He shook his head, attempting in vain to clear his mind of those thoughts.

John slowly packed the extra clothes Mrs. Hudson had brought for him. God bless that woman, always there when necessary. He had called her one afternoon and asked her to bring some clothes and his gun. She simply did it. Not a single question was asked. She knew they would tell her when they were ready.

Sherlock finally stopped pacing and directed his gaze towards John. "You don't have to, you know? You don't have to come. I can do it."

"We already talked about this, Sherlock. I'm going to help you and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"But John-"

"Nothing." John zipped up his bag and turned towards Sherlock, he looked sternly at Sherlock, like a teacher telling off a student who rebelled against his authority. Sherlock hung his head low and shrugged. "Fine." He murmured. "We must go over the plan." He started, looking up, his face totally serious and with a frown upon his brow. "Moran will be expecting me. You're supposed to still be in the hospital therefore that will be a surprise factor that will be beneficial to us." He placed a hand on John's shoulder, helping himself in making a point. "John, you'll follow me, no wandering on your own, okay? We don't know if you'll be able to stand a fight and I... I don't want you to get hurt." He squeezed John's shoulder slightly, moving his hand closer to John's neck unvoluntarily before removing it quickly. He hid his blush by raising his hand to 'cough'.

John nodded slowly, closing his eyes for a few seconds. "I'll be careful, Sherlock, you know I will." He breathed deeply, and his bright blue eyes met Sherlock's icy ones. "But you have to understand, I lost you, I don't want to lose you again..." He turned again to grab his bag and place the gun in the waistband of his jeans. "We better get going... I want to get done with this as soon as possible."

John exited the room and headed for the elevator that would take them outside through a worker's exit. That way they wouldn't be seen. During that elevator ride they were silent, but not an akward one. They were sharing that look of complicity between them, just like the old times. It was the look that made everyone think that they were a couple but it was more of a look where they let themselves know how they complemented each other. Letting each other know silently how much they appreciated each other. This look was more intense when they knew they were going to get into difficult situations. That meant, of course, that this look was the most intense that they'd ever had, perhaps it also had a slight touch of romance... The doors opened and they stepped profesionally outside, their steps acompassed until they reached the black car Mycroft had proportioned them. John opened the boot and left his bag there, getting in the passenger's seat just as sherlock started the engine. They'd connected already. The connection happened in dangerous situations, when Sherlock and John became one moving body split into two. They were totally coordinated and communicated with a simple glance. The connection was what made them stronger, it was someting that no one ever expected.

The ride seemed eternal but they finally reached the abandoned building in the cross between Chiltem St. and Paddington St. which, although being at quite a distance, it had a great view on 221b. It was a building in construction that had been there because the owner didn't have enough money. Great place to put a sniper in.

They exited the car and closed the doors, nodding to each other as they entered the building from behind. Both Sherlock and John grabbed their guns tightly, holding the gadgets in front of them as they walked in a cat-like way, not creating a single noise. Sherlock's movements were still swifter than John's but the latter had improved a lot since they first met, it seeemed that Sherlock had rubbed off on John. Sherlock looked intently at John and made a sharp movement upwards with his eyes so John climbed up the railing-less stairs next to him. Sherlock had already calculated that Moran would be in the seventh floor, the one that had a better view of their appartment but they couldn't be sure so they kept their movements soft and quick and their guns held steadily in front of them. When the two men reached the sixth floor John gestured indicating that he would stay there to check it, that Sherlock could check the seventh.

And so they did, John explored the sixth floor, walking through door-less rooms. He thought the coast was clean but after an extremely starp turn he found him, Moran. His rifle was placed on its position on the window but he wasn't looking through it. The tall, blond, muscly man was curled up next to it, lovingly stronking a photo. A photo in which the blond man appeared next to Moriarty. At first, Moran didn't spot him but, as John inched closer the tall man turned. His eyes were red, he had bags under his eyes and his face was covered in the salty remains of tears. John didn't need to be Sherlock to know what that meant. He had gone throught it, he lived in that same situation for three bloody years. Sebastian Moran was grieving oven his partner.

John lowered his gun. He just couldn't shoot.

**A/N: Oh my god! What weird magic is this? An early update? I can't believe it! I want to thank you all for the support. All the new followers and favourites I got after I uploaded chapter 5... For most people probably those wouldn't be many but I was literally screaming with happiness (that got me some weird looks from my family). The thing is, I'm quite inspirated nowadays and... Well, who knows, maybe with reviews I'd me MORE inspirated (hint, hint).**

**Love you all!**


	8. Too much love will kill you

**A/N:I recomend you read this while you listen to the song, It makes it the whole lot better.**

**Warnings: Angst!**

I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be  
Too many bitter tears are raining down on me  
I'm far away from home  
And I've been facing this alone for much too long

Oh, I feel like no-one ever told the truth to me  
About growing up and what a struggle it would be  
In my tangled state of mind  
I've been looking back to find where I went wrong

Too much love will kill you  
If you can't make up your mind  
Torn between the lover and the love you leave behind  
You're headed for disaster 'cos you never read the signs  
Too much love will kill you every time

Moran let go of the knife he was going to get out and just held tighter onto the photograph. He wasn't expecting John. John shouldn't be here. It should be Sherlock and he should kill him and he'd finally have revenge for his beloved.

John sat down next to Moran, cross-legged, and placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Sorry." He spoke the word softly, as if he weren't sure if he should say anything at all, but the word's sound echoed the empathy John felt towards Sebastian. The sniper curled himself into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs in a very Sherlock way but much more vulnerable. His words were slightly muffled "It's not fair, you know?" "What isn't?" John's confused gaze scrutinized Sebastian's face, trying to work out the some sense in the bunch of the apparently nonsense words that one babbled out when grieving. Moran answered with a sad smile. In fact, that shouldn't be even called a smile, more like a mask that used to hide the feelings under it but that now's cracked and reveals the truth. Utter pain and loneliness. Crystaline, salty liquid accumulated in his eyes, making them shine in the light. "It's not fair that you get to have him back and I don't." Tears swelled John's eyes "Oh, god…" He murmured, not stopping to think when he wrapped his arms around the taller man to confort him. Moran returned the hug intensly, desperately; Holding onto John like a lifeline. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" John repeated over and over into Moran's hair, rocking him back and forth like a child.

Eventually Sebastian's shuddering decreased and John pulled away, embracing himself. "I still can't believe it…" He murmured, getting the sobbing man's attention. "I still can't believe he's here, you know? That I can look into his eyes again. Touch him, listen to his voice. It was all just a dream not so much ago… And now he's here; And I can't get myself to believe it's true." With that last phrase, he dipped his hand in an inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photograph. The photograph showed an apparently frowning Sherlock covered in blood and holding a harpoon. He was 'apparently frowning' because if you looked closer there was a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. John was next to him, smiling joyfully and looking much younger than now. "I can't believe that he really came back just like I couldn't believe that he had gone away." "We were gonna get married." Sebastian suddenly said and John noticed for the first time the platinum band on the sniper's finger. "Oh my bloody god…" John murmured as Moran continued "We were going to get married. Civil partnership. We'd be legally together… But NOOO, he had to go there and play genius. I can't believe he actually did it. He loved me. He did, I know. But still, he killed himself to win his horrible game." He started shaking with anger so he bit his fist and breathed deeply. "That was him. My Jim. My stupid genius… I loved him. I still love him…" He trailed off as tears started to fall down his cheeks once more. Moran took a deep breath before continuing. "When I watched you it was… It was like seeing myself. I understood how you felt and I wanted to talk with you so badly. I knew we'd help each other with coping… But now you don't need my help. And not even all the help in the world would do any good for me." "Don't say those things…" John, saw his oportunity to talk with someone about something he'd never talked to anyone about before. "I love him. I really do. Sherlock, I mean. I didn't admit it to myself until he was gone- and I promised myself that I'd tell him if I had the opportunity- but now… Now I have him and I wouldn't wanna loose him for the world. I woudn't want to drive him away for my stupid feelings…" "Look, John. I'm gonna tell you something. Now he had faked his death, but you never know when It'll be for real. You should tell him, there's always a chance… Whe- When J-" He breathed deeply, trying to supress his tears and shudders. "When my Jim died… I thought it was another act. He'd done it so, so many times… But- But I got there, to tell him to 'move his lazy arse back hime' and- and he didn't move. It was real and I couldn't believe it. I still regret not telling him how much I loved him every single moment I could…" John hugged Sebastian once more. "I won't leave anything to regret I promise…"

O0O

Sherlock glanced at his watch. "Where the hell is John?" He muttered. He'd already registered the whole floor and had found nothing. He decided to go downstairs to check for John…

O0O

Sebastian separated from John and held his shoulders "You were brave, braver than me when you tried to end it. I don't have the guts to do it. I don't have the guts to shoot my own head…" "But you can face it, Sebastian, you can me stronger by facing life and winning" "I can't John, I'm sorry."And with that, Moran took the gun out of the back of John's trousers and pressed it against the soldier's temple just as Sherlock appeared in the room, his gun held in fron of him and his mouth open. "John." He murmured. "Shoot me or I'll shoot him." Moran calmly sed. "Sherlock don't! Sebastian, you don't have to do this!" Moran separated a bit from John, so that Sherlock could get a clear shot to his chest "Go ahead, do it." He said. "I will oppose no resistance, but if you don't shoot me, I'll shoot him." John looked at him with a dreading look in his eyes. "Don't." "Good luck, soldier. Don't give up" Moran did as if he were going to shoot but, before his finger was even fully on the trigger, Sherlock's bullet had crossed his heart and Moran fell backwards. John quickly turned to try and save him but it was impossible. He closed Moran's eyelids. "Good luck, soldier." John whispered, as a single tear made it's slowly way down John's cheek and splattered on the floor."

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooo

**A/N: Dear god I cried so much writing this… Special thanks to those who reviewed, favourited and alerted! I love you all! Next time, I'll make cookies!**

**Dear Motaki and EliMayz, my friends will send you the cost of the earbuds they had to buy due to my cries of joy. **


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